


Hungry Like The Wolf (except its a rooster)

by Ironworks (Chemical)



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: It Sucks, Kinda, M/M, good shit, gore???, im very sorry i havent written in ages, implied jacket/biker, implied nsfw, kinda spoilers for hlm, let me have my gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical/pseuds/Ironworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bawk Bawk Bawk Bawk.</p>
<p>You're Dead Meat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's already been through a lot to get here.<br/>Let him have a break.<br/>And you too.<br/>Yeah. You deserve one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungry Like The Wolf (except its a rooster)

**Author's Note:**

> This sucks and i'm half asleep and i'll regret this in the morning tbh. and i'm a shit writer so have fun. i just wanted gay.

He remembered how it felt. Everything. The smells, the sounds, the rush of adrenaline. Everything he could feel, and It was so fast-paced, and he was too far deep to stop now, though he had second thoughts. The bodies toppled over, blood spraying in plumes of red, coating the floor and some of his jeans in red. With each movement of his arm, he became more engrossed in the hell he was succumbing to, soft laughs escaping from his cracked lips. He was so close. Close to figuring it out. Everything. All of them were idiots for not seeing the game they had set up. He glanced around the empty room he had found himself in, quickly running to a computer and tapping things in. Footsteps echoed behind him, and he turned around, glaring at him through the tinted window of his helmet.

"You're dead meat."

Now, this man was fairly intimidating. Not just because of the rooster mask.

Okay, maybe, but that's not the point. He had a bloodied golf club in his hand, clenching onto that fucker like it was his lifeline. His knuckles were white from gripping the club so tightly, but they were bruised, and bandages were very sloppily wrapped around them. He could have done better. But there was no time to think right now, just act. He swiftly threw a knife at the masked marauder, only for his eyes to widen in surprise.

 

He dodged it.

The little cock dodged it! This was /not/ how the game's supposed to be PLAYED!  
Grumbling bitterly, the helmeted man pulled out another knife, dashing past the rooster to get the other knife out. As he attempted, he felt weight on him, and his chest dig into the handle of the throwing knife. Holy fuck. He was on him. Slowly turning around, the teal-headed boy looked at the figure, whom had a tight grip on his wrists, pressing his groin against the other's. He felt his face cascade into shades of red, as a soft whimper escaped from his plump lips. The figure began to slowly remove his mask as he moved his hips, making sure to create as much friction as possible. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Freckles you couldn't see unless you were close enough. He was a handsome one. "Jacket..?" Was all he was able to utter out as the blonde removed the helmeted figure's headwear. "Biker." Was all Jacket murmured before kissing down Biker's neck. Biker couldn't help but whine at the contact, closing his eyes. "Mm.."  
Jacket smiled at the sweet noise Biker made, and Biker took note of a tooth gap. Cute. Jacket jerked his hips against Biker's, drawing a moan from the two. Relishing the feeling, Biker gripped onto Jacket's letterman, eyes shutting as he let his head hit the wall. "Mmh-.."  
Jacket snorted softly, sliding his hands into Biker's pants. Biker groaned, grabbing Jacket's wrist. "Let-Let me do something for you first, okay?" He wheezed softly. Hands flew to the blonde's jeans, unbuttoning them and unzipping them. He got them about halfway down, looking up at Jacket. Jacket offered a cracked grin.

And that's when the club struck Biker's head.

Pain.

Then nothing.

 

Extended:

Jacket zipped his pants up, whistling a happy tune as he jogged out of the building, sliding on the rooster mask.  
A job well done. And he got a free blowjob.

What? Biker was dead? No. That was a lie to fool the 50 blessings.  
Biker was at his home. Safely. Jacket knew the consequences, but at this point,

He really didn't give two shits anymore.


End file.
